Chapter 969: Freedom and Further Exchange

The movie was truly excellent, but Pedro’s gaze was drawn to a young man beside Mr. Jack.

A very handsome young man.

He wasn’t sure how old the young man was; Federals looked different from Lapa people.

Lapa people labored every day, exposed to wind, rain, and sun, aging rapidly.

Federals always appeared younger than their actual age—perhaps a few years younger, or ten, or more.

He couldn’t tell whether Mr. Jack was truly only in his twenties or older.

Mr. Jack was chatting with him, and the principal beside them also leaned forward, staring at the young man with a flattering smile.

This sparked Pedro’s curiosity: Who was this young man?

In Lapa, a high school principal wasn’t just anyone’s position—it meant at least some connection to the ruling elite, or he’d never have reached it.

He was practically groveling; this young man’s status must be extraordinary.

After observing for a while and confirming his thoughts, Pedro quickly turned his attention back to the movie.

The movie ended quickly, and everyone stood up spontaneously, applauding enthusiastically!

For the students of this high school today, this was unprecedented!

For the first time, they had seen a movie; for the first time, they had learned about Federal lifestyles; for the first time, they had felt directly the differences between societies.

They had too much to say, and the movie had also left them with more questions.

The principal and Mr. Jack exchanged polite refusals, then Mr. Jack stepped forward to the podium.

There was a microphone and speaker here, but they emitted some static.

He tapped the microphone, confirmed it worked, then smiled and said, “Just now, I spoke with the principal. After the movie, you must have many questions or emotions to express, so we’ll have thirty minutes to talk.”

“Actually, today, besides myself, another very special gentleman has come with us.” He looked out into the audience.

Lans fastened his coat buttons and walked up to the podium from the side stairs.

Mr. Jack was from the Federal Ministry of Internal Affairs’ General Administration for the Promotion of Public Cultural Education, a department responsible for popularizing education, promoting culture, raising public literacy, and eradicating illiteracy.

They funded the development of cultural and educational initiatives, including the Federal Arts Council—a non-governmental body they supported, which received numerous government “contracts” and wielded great influence and control over the entire arts industry.

This cultural exchange initiative in Yalan was specifically entrusted to this General Administration, which also brought along several civilian associations.

For example, members of the Federal Writers Association; the Cabinet had once launched a “Tell My Story” writing program, hoping more authors would step forward and ensuring every Federal citizen read at least two hours per month.

Though this sounded like mere formalism, it wasn’t entirely without effect.

A wave of new authors quickly stirred positive public reaction; some even used Federal government funds to criticize the Federal government itself. Regardless, the Federal literary scene was now flourishing.

Some wrote “My Slave-owning Grandfather,” others wrote “My Slave Grandfather”—anything went.

These people—some willing to cooperate with the Federal government, others following the latest trends—became part of this cultural exchange delegation to Yalan.

Since it was Federal government money, Federals loved public-funded meals and drinks, let alone the chance to travel; some might even use public funds to help girls in need supplement their protein. Everyone with an opportunity eagerly signed up.

Mr. Jack was an official of the General Administration for the Promotion of Public Cultural Education and also a member of several unofficial associations; he had been pondering how to steer the post-movie Q&A toward his own work.

His main duty was promoting culture in the few schools scattered across Lapa.

Lans had no other commitments and came along with him.

This place was about two hundred kilometers from Zolan—not far; aside from the muddy roads, it took only a few hours to reach.

He’d heard this school produced several students each year for Zed National University, and it was fairly well-known in this region, including Zolan, so he came to take a look.

Private elite high schools in Zolan had higher university admission rates, but that meant little.

Lans’s main focus was promoting to the commoners and middle class—information about the Federation spread fastest among them!

The middle class was always the most thoughtful group.

When Lans reached the podium, Mr. Jack introduced him: “Mr. Lans is the primary initiator of this event and a sponsor of several awards, including funding and slots for exchange students to the Federation.”

Lans smiled and nodded to the crowd, then sat on the sofa beside the podium amid applause.

He then introduced other accompanying personnel, such as sociologists.

After introducing them, Mr. Jack also sat on the sofa: “Our conversation is part of cultural exchange—if anyone wishes to ask a question, please raise your hand.”

In Lapa, students attending high school were mostly from middle-class families who could access information beyond the common populace.

One student raised his hand; Mr. Jack gestured for him to speak.

The student wore clean clothes; there was no uniform here, so everyone appeared more individualistic.

Still, those dressed exceptionally well were rare.

“Mr. Jack, the movie is truly a great invention!”

“I sat here in the auditorium and saw events thousands of kilometers away in the Federation—it’s incredible!”

“I noticed the male and female leads mentioned ‘freedom’ many times, and slogans related to ‘freedom’ appeared in the background.”

“My question is: What is freedom?”

This question stunned Mr. Jack—it was extremely broad: What exactly was freedom?

Before he could formulate a response, Lans raised the microphone.

“Your observation is sharp!” he praised the student, who couldn’t hide his smile.

Lans bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

Lans crossed his legs, looked at the student, then at the other students watching him.

“I believe freedom has three stages.”

“The first stage: freedom of action.”

“I want to do something, I don’t want to do something—no one, including myself, can force me to do it or not do it.”

Everyone nodded, including the student who asked—it was a simple concept, plainly put: the usual parent-child control issue.

“You can do this!”

“You cannot do this!”

These were everyday things; Lans merely mentioned them, and they instantly understood.

When they showed signs of comprehension, Lans continued: “The second stage: freedom of thought.”

“It’s a vague explanation—it’s more like...”

“People always tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, without directly demanding it.”

“But they influence you through thought propagation: you shouldn’t do this.”

“I want to eat candy, but my mother says it causes cavities—I shouldn’t do it.”

“We’re not debating whether candy is good or bad, or whether it causes cavities—only how my mother’s advice influenced me.”

“Under her influence, though I wanted candy, I didn’t eat it—that’s spiritual unfreedom.”

“I could eat it, but my spirit was restrained, imprisoned—even with candy in my hand, I ultimately put it down.”

“Spiritual freedom is questioning authority, examining rules everyone blindly follows.”

“Does candy really cause cavities?”

“Maybe yes, maybe no—but why not try? Breaking the chains of the mind is the second stage of freedom!”

Lans shifted his posture, passed the microphone to his other hand—honestly, this sofa was uncomfortable—“The third stage of freedom: soul freedom.”

“It’s an even broader concept, harder to grasp, because it’s difficult to define what soul freedom truly is.”

“I’ll try to explain it.”

“Soul freedom means ‘I.’”

“Does that sound even more confusing?”

The students nodded—they were already slightly confused at the second stage, let alone this third one.

Lans smiled. “I was confused too, but I eventually understood.”

“You may not grasp it now, but I believe your lives are long; someday, when you reach a certain stage in life...”

“You’ll recall what I said today and suddenly understand.”

“What is ‘I’?”

“No one can define it.”

“‘I’ isn’t necessarily me—because ‘I’ might be how others see me, not how I see myself.”

“Teachers want you to be an outstanding student; your parents want you to shine in the future; your friends want you to be a model friend.”

“Your family, your partner, your future children...”

“Each of them sees an ‘I’—but their ‘I’ isn’t necessarily the real you!”

“Do you truly like studying?”

“Are you truly consistent with the persona you show your elders?”

“I think not!”

The entire auditorium fell silent, save for Lans’s voice and the occasional static from the speakers.

This was an important diplomatic event; Federal journalists, reporters from Yalan’s developed regions, and cameramen were present, faithfully recording everything.

“I don’t like reading, but to keep my father or mother from being sad, I pretend I do—that’s unfreedom.”

“I don’t like this child, but because he’s my blood relative, I must pretend to love him and take full responsibility—that’s not freedom either.”

“Freedom should be unbound, shapeless—not forced into boxes others create, becoming their version of ‘I’ instead of your true self.”

“I said freedom is a complex, broad concept—we can’t define it precisely. This is merely my interpretation; perhaps in your world, freedom has other meanings.”

“I’m only telling you my understanding of freedom.”

“If you crave the vitality of youth, embrace it—that’s freedom!”

“If you hate studying and accept the consequences, throw away your stationery and books—that’s freedom too!”

“Guarding is freedom; resisting is freedom; doing anything you truly want to do, from your heart—that’s freedom!”

As Lans’s voice fell silent, the auditorium fell briefly quiet, then burst into applause.

One student, eyes alight with longing, asked, “Mr. Lans, does true freedom exist in this world?”

Lans smiled. “I don’t know if it does, but each of us is searching for it. I believe one day we will find it!”

The applause grew louder.

Lans seemed to say something, yet seemed to say nothing at all—but his words planted a seed in people’s hearts.

The questions from the following students were clearly far less profound.

Things like the living and study conditions of Lianbang students, the admission rate of Lianbang University, and whether graduates could find suitable jobs.

These questions were answered by Mr. Jack, not by Lans.

Some topics aren’t suitable to delve into too deeply yet—they require time to ferment.

Half an hour passed quickly; Lans, Mr. Jack, and the other accompanying personnel departed amid warm farewells from the faculty and students.

For the people of Lapa, who rarely encountered foreigners, this was an extraordinarily rare experience—one they would savor for a long time.

After Lans and his party left, both teachers and students returned to their classrooms, their minds filled with the film’s scenes and Lans’s words.

Many began writing reflections on the film, titling them “Freedom.”

The students may not have noticed anything unusual, but Pedro always felt a growing sense of “offense” as he wrote.

He had offended the President, offended Lapa’s laws, offended everything here!

He had never felt unfree before, but after watching this Lianbang film, he began to wonder if he wasn’t free after all.

This scene unfolded in many places—in Lapa’s few factories, at roadside gatherings.

But what these people saw differed from what the faculty and students had seen at school.

For instance, factory workers watched daily life and labor among Lianbang workers.

From these films, they learned new terms, such as “weekend.”

Two days of rest per week was unthinkable in Lapa!

Because Lapa had no rest days at all!

When work came, every worker had to keep going until it was finished.

It might be ten or more days, twenty or thirty days—then, only after the next order arrived, could they rest—and even then, without pay.

But look at Lianbang: no matter how busy the orders, they rested two days every week—and earned high wages.

People watched. They learned about Lianbang. The more they learned through propaganda, the more they yearned for Lianbang’s life.

How could Lianbang’s life be so wonderful?

No exploitation, no oppression, equal pay for equal work, rest days, free food, wages paid on time.

Many Lapa people hadn’t felt how hard their lives were before.

Yes, life was hard—but since everyone lived hard, it felt normal, even natural.

Now, after seeing these propaganda materials and cultural exchanges, their lives truly became hard.

At the end of November, beginning of December, Pedro’s “reflection” won a prize: ten yuan.

Even the principal slapped his shoulder hard with envy. “You lucky bastard!”

Pedro grinned widely, holding the ten yuan—he’d written one reflection and earned nearly half a month’s wage. He was stunned.

The principal handed him the money: a ten-yuan Lianbang Sol banknote, then passed him an envelope. “Mr. Jack asked me to give this to you.”

“They’ve read your reflection. They think it’s excellent—you have a deep understanding of the cultural differences between our two nations.”

“Next week, there’s a seminar of sorts in Zolan. They invite you. They’ll cover your travel, accommodation, and all expenses. You’ll join discussions on how to sustainably promote exchanges between our regions.”

“Do you want to go?”

The principal’s real meaning was: “You’d better not go—that way, I can go instead.”

In the past, he might have refused. But Lans’s words had given him new thoughts. Recalling the film, he now felt greater curiosity and longing for Lianbang’s society.

How could such a free and lax nation become so powerful?

He wanted to know more!

“Thank you. I’ll be there on time!”

He gripped the envelope, tugged it slightly, and with a little force, pulled it from the principal’s hand.